Amity
by NicHarper
Summary: <html><head></head>Elijah has experienced many things in his thousand year lifespan, however he's only now realising that friendship has never been one of them. But that is all about to change... (Yep, you're right. That summary sucks, and the title's not great either. I'll try and work on it...)</html>
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi everyone,**

**Basically, I really like Elijah as a character and wanted an avenue to explore the aspects of his personality that aren't super serious and angsty. My goal for this story is really just to give Elijah a friend - not a romantic one, just a friend. And who knows, it may go terribly, not to mention, the new series may completely throw out the plot and render this fic useless, but still. I guess we'll just have to wait and see...**

**P.S. I apologise in advance for any spelling/grammar errors - I never do seem to catch them all. **

"You can't be serious!"

I made absolutely no effort to hide my disgust, momentarily forgetting that the man I was addressing was none other than my boss. Realising my mistake, I quickly resumed my seat and bowed my head by way of apology.

Thankfully, Captain Nichols chose to ignore my outburst. In truth, I think he was becoming just as frustrated with the state of crime in the city as I was; New Orleans was rapidly falling apart, and we both knew it.

A hardened cop, Nichols was a good fit for the position as head of the N.O.P.D., not that anyone had congratulated him on his promotion; nor would they considering how he'd come into the job. There were still a lot of unanswered questions about the "boating accident" that had killed the city's highest ranking officials only a few months ago.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I looked up once again only to see just how deep the lines of fatigue were becoming on the Captain's face and for a moment felt nothing but pity for the man. Instantly regretting my earlier actions, I decided to swallow my pride and apologise.

"I'm sorry, Sir. It's just... It's just hard sometimes. I joined the police department to protect people, and sometimes I forget..."

I trailed off, not sure if it was wise to admit my flaws to my boss. His eyes bored into me, and I realised that I had no choice but to follow through. Clearing my throat, I continued.

"I forget that we can't save everyone...Sir."

Leaning back in his chair, Nichols seemed to accept my apology.

"You may not believe me when I say this, Lawson, but I do understand. You're doing good work, you just need to remember that you can't protect others if you don't protect yourself first..."

I gritted my teeth and forced out a nod. He was giving me the "you need to back off for your own good" speech, and I very much resented it. As if on cue, he said the very words I had been expecting.

"For your own good, Lawson, let this one go. There's plenty of other crime for you to deal with in this city. You should leave this one to me. Understand?"

With all the self-restraint I could muster, I nodded again; hoping the rage building within me wasn't showing on my face.

Another moment later, and I had been dismissed. Grabbing my things on my way past my desk, I headed for my car. In the back of my mind, I spared a moment to pity the punching bag hanging in my basement at home – it was about to cop a beating.

Every day, New Orleans became more and more dangerous. And even worse was that no one except me seemed to give a damn. They all seemed content to sit back and watch as the city came down around us.

Not me though.

Something was very wrong with New Orleans, and I was going to find out what.

One way or another.

* * *

><p>The Chief of Police found himself almost regretful at the sound of the receiver being picked up at the other end. He hated having to contact them.<p>

Once upon a time, Jonathan Nichols had _dreamed_ of being the head of the New Orleans Police Department, and yet, lately he found himself wishing he had taken his father's advice and become a lawyer instead.

"Captain Nichols, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

The police chief had wondered several times as to why the other brother spoke with an English accent, and this one did not, however he knew he'd never have the courage to ask.

"It's one of my officers... She-She's asking questions. I've told her to let it go, but I don't think she's going to listen. She came to me today with a case she's been developing for months..."

"Are you saying this officer of yours, a human no less, has discovered the truth of what's happening here in New Orleans?"

Captain Nichols couldn't help but feel offended at the tone of disbelieving amusement in the man's voice. Not for the first time, he wished he had decided against making this phone call. Unfortunately, though, he knew it wasn't really his decision to make.

"Well, no" The Captain continued. "She has no idea about the supernatural presence here in the city, but she's damn close. I'm warning you, Elijah. Lawson's a smart girl; it won't be too long before she finds out the truth. I doubt she'll be one to keep it quiet either."

"I see."

The man's tone was curt, and tinged with annoyance. The Captain couldn't help the tiny bit of pride that welled up inside him from knowing that humans weren't as helpless as the supernatural players of this town liked to make them out to be.

"What are you going to do?" Nichols questioned nervously. He liked Lawson, and the last thing he wanted would be for anything to happen to her, especially because of this...

"I'll take care of it." The man answered vaguely.

"You won't hurt her will you?" The Captain tried and failed to keep the worry from his voice.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary. However, I do think it's time that Officer Lawson and I have a little chat."

And with that, Captain Nichols found himself listening to the sound of a dial tone. Despite the unpleasantness of dealing with the supernaturals in this city, he found himself somewhat relieved after his chat with Elijah.

Maybe now Lawson really would let it go.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi All, **

**So, I have tried to incorporate what's happening in the new season as much as I can, however I live in Australia and have only been able to grasp the plot by reading the various recaps around the place, so I haven't actually seen the episode. Therefore, I hope you'll excuse any inaccuracies in that department. **

**Also, I know the frequent use of the pronoun "she" instead of an actual character name is frustrating, but I'm trying to write it so that Elijah and the reader will learn her name at the same time. It probably won't work, but I'm going to try it anyway. **

**Lastly, you'll probably notice that I've ditched the first-person style in this chapter. Third-person is probably what I'll try and stick with from now on – 1) because I find it more natural to write in, and 2) there is ****no**** way I could even begin to write from Elijah's point of view. **

**As always, thanks for reading and apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes. **

She always found it funny the way people's opinion of her changed the moment they found out she was a cop. It was as if being on the police force automatically meant that you had to enjoy donuts and hard liquor... The fact that she _did_ like both those things was completely beside the point.

Still, most of the time she preferred to drink in the comfort of her own home, at least _there_ she didn't have to put up with sleazy pick up lines and drunken violence. Not tonight though. Not after what she had just witnessed.

To be quite honest, she wasn't even sure exactly _what_ she had just witnessed. All she knew was that either _she_ was going crazy or New Orleans was...

At that precise moment Officer Lawson spotted exactly what she had been looking for: a bar.

Rousseau's it is.

* * *

><p>It was a mere four months ago when he had stood next to her at her window and told her how much the thought of her death had terrified him. And now, he stood alone in the destroyed nursery that should have housed his niece feeling a similar fear all over again.<p>

She hated her life.

That's what she had just told him. She hated her new life as a hybrid, and what was even worse was that there was nothing he could do to fix it.

He could not undo this. She was a hybrid now, there was no going back.

She hated her life... Did that mean she hated him now too?

Her rage grew more and more every day. She was out of control. And all he could think about was how he had failed her.

He had given her his word that he would _always_ protect her, and yet, she had still been killed at the hands of the witches. It was nothing but good timing that had allowed her to come back as a hybrid.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind. It would not do to continue down this train of thought.

Without another thought, Elijah Mikaelson headed for the entry of the compound. He had no idea where he was going; all he knew was that he couldn't stay here.

* * *

><p>Setting the empty glass of drink number three down on the bar top, the shaken police women found her nerves beginning to calm slightly. Reason began to flood back into her senses.<p>

She still had no idea what had just gone down, but she was certain that there was a completely reasonable explanation for it – one that she did _not_ intend to hunt down.

Against all the odds, for once in her life, she was going to let something go. Captain Nichols was right; she needed to protect _herself_ first or she'd be worth nothing to anybody.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she gestured to the bartender for what she had decided would be her final drink of the night. Maybe she was working too hard? Maybe all the stress was finally beginning to eat away at her mind?

As much as she hated to contemplate either of those two explanations, both of them were still preferable to anything else she'd come up with.

Because even after hours and hours of thinking and replaying the scenes in her mind, there was absolutely no other rational reason for why people would be ripping off each other's heads and drinking their blood.

And so that was the conclusion that she had reached: she was working too hard. She wasn't thrilled about it, but it was the only answer for what she had seen, or rather what she had _thought_ she'd seen. And with that, she was more than happy to let the matter go.

That was until _he_ entered the bar.

The tall and handsome man who wore a suit.

The same man she had witnessed just hours before ripping off people's heads...


	3. Chapter 3

Elijah wasn't quite certain why he had chosen to come to Rousseau's; it certainly wasn't his establishment of choice. Looking around, he suppressed a small shudder at the sight of all the inebriated and disorderly people – obviously decorum was on its way out.

Sitting down at the bar, he declined the bartender's offer of service. He noted briefly that Cami was not working as he might have expected her to be, a small mercy for him considering all of the questions she was sure to ask about the evenings events; questions that he was not entirely ready to answer.

The raucous volume of the room was grating to his vampire hearing, and so, with nothing better to do, Elijah began to occupy himself by isolating the different sounds in the room. It was something he had done quite often in his infancy as an immortal, although back then it had been a learning tool – a way of coming to terms with his new state of being; now it was just something he did out of shear boredom.

At least this environment had a large variety of sounds to focus on: in the back corner someone had just thrown a dart that had missed and fallen to the floor; to his left there was someone breaking a toothpick into tiny pieces; someone in the bathroom was washing their hands...

After several moments of this, the vampire began to focus on one sound in particular. A heart beat. Normally he would not have bothered with the minor detail except for the fact that _this_ heart beat was pounding at an alarmingly rapid speed. Whoever the heart belonged to, it was beating so hard, and so fast that Elijah actually had concerns for the person's health. Perhaps they were having a heart attack...

Blocking out all the other noises, he continued to focus on the heart beat, ruling out possible owners as he went. Finally, he matched the heart to the person, and was more than a little surprised at what he found.

She was to his right, seated at the bar like him. He guessed her to be in her early 20s; he noticed her slim, medium build that was complimented by a flattering set of curves. From her appearance alone he could tell that she was someone with an active lifestyle – it showed not only in her physique, but also in her clothes.

The boots she wore sported no heel, her brown hair was up and off her face, tied back into a simple pony tail, and the jacket on the back of her seat had clearly been chosen for practical reasons.

He supposed she was pretty enough – still, she couldn't compare to Hayley; at least not in his eyes.

Despite this, he still found it incredibly curious the way her heart continued to pound. He was staring at her now, and he couldn't help but notice that she seemed to be making a conscious effort _not_ to look at him. Instead, she did nothing more than stare intently into the amber liquid still sitting in her glass.

Her breathing, he noticed, was also coming quickly. Not to mention the light sheen of sweat that now graced her brow.

Before he could decide on a further course of action, the girl glanced up and met his stare. The moment their eyes met her expression changed from one of nervousness to one of complete fear. He also noted that her heart rate and breathing increased – though he would have thought it possible considering how fast they had been before.

Without any further hesitation, the mystery woman leapt from her chair and strode toward the exit. He watched as she made it out onto the street and began to sprint away.

His curiosity peaked. What had caused the girl to have such a violent reaction? And what exactly had made her leave the bar without even putting on her jacket?

Rising from his seat, Elijah strode over to the stool the mystery girl had just vacated and picked up the jacket in question before heading for the exit himself. He wanted answers to his questions, and he was sure the girl would want her jacket back as well. As far as he was concerned, that would be a fair trade.

Getting out onto the street, he used his vampire hearing yet again. It didn't take him long to find her in the din of noise on the street. He could hear her heavy breathing, coupled with the sound of her feet meeting the pavement in a steady sprint.

With the use of his vampire speed, it took him all but a few seconds to catch up to the girl and cut her off.

Unsurprisingly, she was quite stunned to see him suddenly standing in front of her, and let out a short scream. In the seconds that followed he watched the expressions that crossed her face and was able to recognise the instant when she decided to attempt another run-away.

Using his vampire speed yet again, he moved to into her path; an action that managed to elicit another scream from the girl. This time though, she was not as slow to recover, and instead of attempting to run, she attempted to attack him.

Grabbing her fist before it could make contact with his face, he couldn't help but be slightly impressed. This girl was brave – possibly very stupid as well, yet brave nonetheless.

Still holding her fist in his hand, he spoke, "I wouldn't do that if I were you..."

Accepting her defeat, the girl retracted her arm from his, still breathing heavily.

"Who are you?" She asked after several moments had passed.

"Considering you just fled from a bar without even remembering to pick up your jacket for what would appear to be no reason at all, I think the more appropriate question to be asking is who are _you_?" He replied steadily, holding her jacket out to her once he'd finished.

After a moment of hesitation and a small nod, the girl accepted her jacket from his outstretched hand. He waited another moment as she put the jacket on.

Thinking that he was going to have to force her name out of her, he became surprised when she met suddenly met his gaze, a determined look on her features.

"I'm Paige."


End file.
